


The Colours of My Life

by machtaholic (cinderella81)



Category: The Witcher (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, First Kiss, First Meetings, Hair, Hair Kink, Haircuts, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-26
Updated: 2020-05-26
Packaged: 2021-03-02 19:15:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,625
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24381922
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cinderella81/pseuds/machtaholic
Summary: Geralt, a well known artist in San Francisco, is having his first show in a year after acclimating to being a guardian to his ward Ciri.  Yennefer, his agent, sets up an appointment for him with Jaskier - full time barber and full time musician.Geralt's life won't be the same.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Comments: 37
Kudos: 317
Collections: Fave Stories of Queixo





	The Colours of My Life

“Fuck.”

“Eloquent as always, Geralt. Your first showing in a year is two days away and you look like a sad sack of shit!”

“Descriptive as ever, Yenn,” Geralt said, dropping his paintbrush and turning to look at her.

“You don’t pay me to be nice, you pay me to represent you,” Yennefer said. “And to make sure you show up where you’re supposed to and look presentable. This is not presentable.”

“Why are you here?”

“You got caught up in your work and forgot to get Ciri from school,” Yennefer said. “Me, being the magnanimous agent I am -”

Geralt snorted.

“Went to pick her up and bring her home after you didn’t answer your texts,” Yennefer finished.

“Fuck.”

Cirilla Riannon, or Ciri as she demanded she be called, was Geralt’s … ward. A year ago Social Services had shown up on the doorstep of his home in the heart of San Francisco’s Mission District with Ciri in tow and had informed Geralt that he had been named as Ciri’s guardian in her grandmother’s will. Geralt had vaguely recalled seeing something about Calanthe and a horrible plane crash, but hadn’t given it much further thought.

Until Ciri had arrived on his doorstep.

Geralt had immediately taken six months off from his work to focus on his new status as parent. Fifteen at the time, Ciri had been scared and sullen - she’d had no memory of Geralt but with no other family and Calanthe’s will, there wasn’t much either of them could do but make the best of a very awkward situation.

Gradually the two had come to an understanding and had even started to form a tenuous friendship. Ciri was a good kid and the two of them had eventually found a good rhythm.

In time, however, Geralt had started to get back into his work - he was one of the most well known painters of the time (only in part to Yennefer talking him up). When Geralt painted he tended to get a little … lost. Sometimes alarms on his phone worked, sometimes they didn’t.

“Anyway, she’s in the living room doing her homework,” Yennefer said. “And asking about dinner.”

“Fuck.”

Geralt stood and ran a hand through his hair, then winced as he realized his hands were covered in purple paint and he’d undoubtedly just put a streak of it in his hair.

“That’s actually a slight improvement,” Yennefer said. “Purple suits you.”

“Fuck off,” Geralt muttered as he cleaned up his work and set his painting to dry.

“Whatever,” Yennefer said. “You’re not going to your first show in a year looking like this. I’ll make some calls and get something set up for you.”

Geralt closed his eyes and took a deep breath - he knew saying no to Yennefer would only result in retaliation.

“Fine,” Geralt said.

“Watch your phone and your email,” Yennefer said. “I’m off.”

Before Geralt could get the last word in, Yennefer was gone. Geralt heaved another sigh, quickly washed his hands and made his way from his home studio towards the living room where he heard music playing. He hesitated in the doorway and saw Ciri on the floor, books strewn about the coffee table, bluetooth speaker playing music from Ciri’s phone.

“Sorry,” Geralt said after a few minutes.

“It’s okay,” Ciri said. “Was the first time in almost a month - best streak yet.”

Geralt winced and moved into the living room, sitting on the floor across from her.

“Still, sorry,” Geralt said. “Wanna order in?”

“Sure,” Ciri replied. “Pizza?”

“Done,” Geralt said.

“Yennefer’s kind of right,” Ciri said after a few minutes.

“About?”

“You kinda look like a sad sack of shit,” Ciri said, still staring down at her homework.

“Heard that, huh?”

“Yennefer’s never been quiet,” Ciri replied.

“True,” Geralt said. “A sad sack of shit? Really?”

“You have that beard and your hair’s kinda straggly,” Ciri said. “I mean, it’s grown at least six inches since I’ve been here. You kinda look homeless.”

“Thanks,” Geralt said, cracking a small smile. “Fine, I guess I will go to whatever appointment she sets up for me.”

“Cool,” Ciri said. “So, pizza?”

“Pizza.”

*** 

Geralt looked down at his phone and then at the nondescript storefront, making sure he had the address right. He’d received a text from Yenn earlier in the day, proving him an address and a time.

_I’ll know if you don’t go - Y_

Geralt glared down at the texts, then back up at the storefront. Pruning Shears. Who named their barbershop Pruning Shears? Geralt groaned and headed towards the door, pausing when his phone dinged again.

_Take pictures. Don’t be grumpy. Try to have fun. -C_

He’d left Ciri with leftovers - Yennefer had set his appointment for 6:30 in the evening, which actually worked out. He’d done his painting during the day, picked up Ciri from school and had helped her a bit with homework before heading out. He knew she’d be fine - she was actually pretty badass and could take care of herself.

And Geralt wasn’t too far away - just a few blocks from home, in fact.

Geralt took a breath and stepped inside.

It wasn’t like anything he’d expected; dark burgundy walls filled with eclectic art and folk/rock/Irish music playing softly in the background. It was actually kind of … comforting. Until he realized the woman behind the counter was staring at him.

“It’s all right, Bess, this one’s mine.”

Geralt stared at the man who swept into reception from the back of the shop. Only slightly shorter than him, the man wore skinny legged black trousers and a black vest over a white tank top. His beard was trimmed to be just shy of respectable and his ear length hair was held back by … an Alice band? 

Geralt blinked and realized the man was standing right in front of him.

“You’re Geralt and I’m Julian Pankratz, but everyone calls me Jaskier.”

“Jaskier,” Geralt said.

“Yep!” Jaskier turned and gave the receptionist a smile. “Really, Bess. I set this so that he’d be my last tonight. Everyone else left so I’ll close up.”

Geralt could feel the woman staring at him as she shut things down and walked past him to exit. Geralt knew the kind of impression people got when they saw him - tall, broad shouldered, eyes so light brown you may as well call them yellow and his hair … genetics had dealt him a weird hand and Geralt had been grey almost the moment he hit puberty. 

People tended to be scared of him, honestly.

“That’s a good lass,” Jaskier said, practically pushing Bess past Geralt through the door. “See you tomorrow, sweetheart!”

Geralt watched curiously as Jaskier locked the door and then turned off a few of the lights.

“Come on, back to my station,” Jaskier said, motioning to Geralt to follow.

Geralt hesitantly set off behind Jaskier, a bit at a loss for words - Jaskier didn’t stare, didn’t pester him with questions … didn’t seem afraid of him at all. 

“You’re not staring,” Geralt said after a few minutes. “Or pestering me with questions. Or cowering in fear.”

“I’ve seen a lot,” Jaskier said. “Plus, your agent said if I wanted to end the night with my balls still attached to my body I should refrain from, well, a long list of things actually. Cheeky cunt, kind of like her.”

“Spend more than ten minutes in her company and your opinion might change,” Geralt muttered. “So, ex pat?”

“What gave it away?” Jaskier asked with a wink. “Yeah, moved here when I was eighteen, took the long path to citizenship and here I am. And here we are. So, take a seat.”

Geralt looked around and realized they were back at Jaskier’s station. He gave a short grunt and dropped into the chair, listening as the leather creaked and the chair groaned.

“Don’t worry, it can handle you,” Jaskier said. “So Yenn gave me some very specific instructions. But as I’m looking at you now, I think her suggestions would make you fly off into a rage, even if it would look fantastic. So, why don’t you take your hair down and let me see what I’m working with, huh?”

“Sounds like Yenn,” Geralt muttered as he reached up and undid the tie holding his hair up in a haphazard bun. “She doesn’t really do tact.”

“Got that right quick,” Jaskier said. “And shit you have a lot of hair.”

Geralt glanced at his reflection and blinked when he saw his hair almost reached his elbows - he normally just put it up in a bun when he worked and only rarely wore it down that he honestly hadn’t realized how long it had gotten.

“Haven’t done anything with it in more than a year,” Geralt admitted.

“Clearly,” Jaskier said.

Geralt watched in the mirror as Jaskier ran his fingers through Geralt’s hair, biting back the urge to hum; people always seemed so frightened or intimidated by him that any casual touch Geralt received was like heaven.

“Are you attached to the beard?” Jaskier said. “I mean emotionally attached, clearly, since I know you physically are attached to the beard -”

“No,” Geralt said. “Not emotionally attached to the beard.”

“Good, then that’ll go,” Jaskier said. “So, Yenn mentioned you’re an artist - what’s your medium?”

“Paint,” Geralt said.

“Okay, messy shit,” Jaskier said. “Makes sense why you’d wear it up. Okay, so new plan, better plan than Yennefer’s plan. We lose ten inches of hair, remove some bulk, put in some … you’re not paying attention to what I’m saying at all, are you?”

Geralt had zoned out to the feeling of Jaskier’s fingers continuing to comb through his hair and blinked when he realized Jaskier had stopped talking.

“Will I still be able to pull it back?” Geralt asked.

“Absolutely,” Jaskier said.

“Then do what you want,” Geralt said. “It’s just hair. If I hate it, I’ll wear it back until I don’t hate it anymore.”

“Thanks for the confidence,” Jaskier muttered. “Do you care what order I do things in?”

“Nope,” Geralt said.

“Okie dokie,” Jaskier said. 

Just as Jaskier was wrapping the cape around Geralt’s neck, Geralt’s phone dinged.

_Doing okay? -C_

“Girlfriend?” Jaskier asked.

“Nope.”

“Boyfriend?” Jaskier continued.

“Nope.”

“Can I inquire as to who?”

“My ward,” Geralt said. “Asking if I was doing okay.”

“That’s actually ridiculously adorable,” Jaskier said. 

“She also demanded pictures and told me to try to have fun,” Geralt admitted.

“How long has she been your ward?” Jaskier asked.

“A year,” Geralt said, watching in the mirror as Jaskier snapped the cape tight and adjusted it.

“And it all suddenly makes sense now,” Jaskier said. “So, here’s a question. Would you trust me to play photographer and send them to your ward … ?”

“Ciri,” Geralt said.

“Ciri, so she can see that you’re doing okay?” Jaskier finished.

Geralt gave a little shrug and a grunt, typed a quick text to Ciri, then passed his phone over.

“Lots of trust,” Jaskier said.

“I told her you’ve been appointed photographer,” Geralt said.

“I will do my utmost to properly chronicle your transformation,” Jaskier said with a bow.

Geralt cracked a small smile at Jaskier’s antics.

“All right, so let’s get this party started! Mind if I turn up the music? I work better with sound,” Jaskier said.

“Sure,” Geralt said.

The music got louder, but Geralt found he didn’t mind - the mix of folk, rock and Irish helped to put Geralt at ease and he found the tension slowly seeping from his shoulders, even humming a bit as he felt Jaskier brushing his hair.

It had been so long since someone else had brushed his hair for him, Geralt gave a little groan and let his head drop back a bit and didn’t even growl when Jaskier laughed.

“There’s a little hedonist in all of us,” Jaskier said. “It’s all right, I won’t tell anyone … except your ward.”

Geralt didn’t even protest when he heard the click on his phone.

“Let me just tell you what I’m going to do, before you completely zone out,” Jaskier said. “I’m going to do a rough cut first to get rid of the bulk, then we’ll take care of the beard and then come back to finesse the cut. Okay?”

“Okay,” Geralt said.

“I’ll wake you up when you have to move,” Jasker said, amusement evident in his voice.

“Mmmhmm,” Geralt hummed. 

Geralt didn’t even hear the sound of the scissors over the music, but felt when Jaskier positioned his head and then could actually feel the weight lift as Jaskier began to cut.

As Jaskier reclined the chair back for the shave, Geralt very quickly realized the reason Jaskier had turned the music up. Jaskier hummed and sang along to every song, even the strictly instrumental songs. Geralt suspected that if the music wasn’t playing, Jaskier would be talking instead of singing and humming.

“Gonna clip this down first before the shave,” Jaskier said.

“Fine,” Geralt mumbled.

It was an experience, Geralt decided, having someone else take care of you. He normally trimmed his own hair and shaving wasn’t really something he’d ever thought about letting someone else handle. So having what amounted to a total stranger touching his face and hair in such an … intimate matter? New territory for Geralt. 

And Jaskier was surprisingly gentle. First with the clippers, then with the hot towel and shaving cream itself. When Jaskier started working with the razor, Geralt realized that the top of his head was pressed against Jaskier’s chest and that Jaskier had sat down and was leaning in quite close. Geralt could hear him humming, could feel his breath. As Jaskier carefully shaved away stubble, he’d follow it with a finger to make sure he’d gotten everything. Shave, stroke, shave stroke … it was a comforting rhythm which made Geralt realize again how much he missed casual and intimate touches.

Shave done, Geralt hummed when he felt Jaskier gently wiping away excess shaving cream and applying a soothing cream into his newly bared skin.

“Holy Cinderella,” Jaskier said. “I’m adding fairy godmother to my resume, because this is one hell of a transformation.”

“What?”

“When was the last time you saw yourself without a beard?” Jaskier asked.

“At least a year,” Geralt said.

“Your jaw … and your chin! Hiding under that homeless beard!” Jaskier said.

Geralt grunted when Jaskier unceremoniously sat him up, then caught a glimpse of his reflection in the mirror and blinked. 

“See?” Jaskier said. “Your ward won’t recognize you!”

“I sincerely doubt that,” Geralt said.

“Whatever, this is a game changer,” Jaskier said. “But come to the sinks so I can wash your mop before finishing things up. Home stretch, Geralt!”

Geralt rolled his eyes but stood and followed Jaskier over to one of the sinks. 

“And now I’m going to word vomit at you a bit before you turn all hedonist again and get lost in the sensation of my magical fingers,” Jaskier said.

Geralt just snorted as he sat down and laid back, resting his head on the lip of the wash sink.

“They are magic!” Jaskier protested. “Anyway, unless your hair is completely covered in paint, you should really only wash your hair three or four times a week - no more than that. And, considering the particular non-pigmentation of your locks, at least two washes and conditions should be done with a purple shampoo and conditioner -”

“Purple,” Geralt interrupted.

“Which, if you’d let me finish, will not make your hair purple,” Jaskier finished. 

“Oh,” Geralt said. “Sorry.”

“Accepted,” Jaskier said. “Since I assume you’ve never used them, I’ll send you home with some, if that’s okay.”

“Okay.”

“So monosyllabic,” Jaskier said. “Anyway thank you for coming to my TED talk, I’m going to proceed with washing your hair now. With purple shampoo and conditioner. So you can see that I’m right.”

Geralt didn’t even respond, just closed his eyes and let Jaskier work. The water was hot, but not unbearably so, and Geralt couldn’t help but hum when he felt Jaskier’s fingers in his hair, working the water through the strands. When Jaskier’s fingers returned to his hair after the water had been turned off, Geralt gave a low groan; Jaskier’s fingers gently worked the shampoo through his hair, massaging his scalp from front to back, miraculously working out all the tension Geralt hadn’t even known he’d been carrying.

“Fuck,” Geralt mumbled when Jaskier stopped.

“See? Magic fingers,” Jaskier said.

The shampoo was rinsed out and then Geralt got the same treatment with the conditioner and Geralt was almost sad when the water turned off and Jaskier gently squeezed the excess water from his hair.

“Back to my station for the home home stretch,” Jaskier said. “Another forty-five minutes and we’ll be done.”

The rest of his time in Jaskier’s company passed pretty quickly for Geralt and before he knew it, Jaskier was whisking the cape away.

“Voila!” Jaskier said. “Again, I’m a fucking fairy godmother because you don’t look at all like the man who came in here.”

Geralt took a good look in the mirror and realized Jaskier was right. Bare faced with slightly wavy, positively shiny locks sitting just below his shoulders, Geralt looked almost completely different. 

“It’s good,” Geralt said after a few moments.

“And I could tell that was so hard for you to say, so I will take that as the highest compliment possible,” Jaskier said. “You can still pull it back, but I did a little layering in the front so if you get too, um, exuberant, you may end up with some flyaways.”

Geralt just shrugged as he stood and stretched.

“Sweet merciful -”

“What?” Geralt asked.

“Nothing,” Jaskier said. “Come to the front and you can settle the tab.”

Geralt followed Jaskier back through the barbershop and waited while Jaskier grabbed a couple of bottles from the display behind the reception desk, then fiddled with his phone for a bit.

“Okay, one magical shave, one transformative haircut, two bottles of Miss Clairol -”

“Miss Clairol?” Geralt asked with a raised eyebrow.

“She’s a miracle worker, you show her due respect,” Jaskier said. “And here we go, grand total.”

Geralt eyed the total and admitted for what Jaskier had done, it was a fair price. He provided his card and then tipped generously.

“Wow, thanks,” Jaskier said as he passed the card back to Geralt before quickly bagging the bottles.

“You’re welcome,” Geralt said.

“So Yennefer never did say what all this was for,” Jaskier said. “And by now you’ve figured out I can be quite nosy, so …”

“I have a gallery showing,” Geralt said. “First in a year.”

“Ah,” Jaskier said. “When is it?”

“Tomorrow,” Geralt replied.

“And now I get the urgency,” Jaskier said.

“You should come.” Geralt froze as he realized what he’d just said.

“What? Are you inviting me to your gallery showing?”

“You should come,” Geralt repeated. “It starts at eight and I don’t know your schedule or anything -”

“No, I can be there,” Jaskier said. “Wherever there is.”

“Anglim Gilbert Gallery,” Geralt replied. “I’ll make sure your name’s on the list.”

“I feel so important,” Jaskier said. “Okay! Well, um, see you tomorrow.”

“Yeah,” Geralt said. “And, um, thanks.”

“I can honestly say it was my pleasure,” Jaskier replied with a wink.

Not knowing how to respond to that, Geralt grabbed the bag and promptly left the barbershop. The entire walk back to his house, he went over and over the series of events that had led to him inviting a total stranger to his gallery showing; he was still trying to figure it out when he got home. Dropping his keys and bag on the entry table, he headed into the living room where Ciri was sitting reading.

“I have returned,” Geralt said.

“How was - holy shit!” Ciri said as she looked up and saw Geralt. “Holy. Shit.”

“I would have figured you would know the end result, what with the pictures,” Geralt said.

“They were all very abstract,” Ciri said, climbing off the couch and crossing the room. “See?”

Geralt looked down at her phone and sure enough, the pictures Jaskier had taken were all very, very abstract - Jaskier had a good eye, though.

“I was told you wouldn’t recognize me,” Geralt said.

“Well of course I’d recognize you,” Ciri said with an eye roll.

“Of course,” Geralt said. “Homework all done?”

“Yeah,” Ciric said.

“I think I’m going to go paint,” Geralt said.

“Really?” Ciri asked.

“Yeah,” Geralt said. The night’s events had put Geralt a little off kilter - he needed to process things and the best he found to do that was to paint.

“Okay, well don’t stay up too late, farmer’s market tomorrow morning,” Ciri said.

“Uh-huh,” Geralt said, then smiled when Ciri wrapped her arms around him in a tight hug.

“It looks good, G,” Ciri said. “Really.”

“Thanks,” Geralt replied.

“See you tomorrow morning,” Ciri said, breaking the hug.

Geralt nodded and watched as Ciri grabbed her book and headed upstairs, before he turned off the lights and headed to his studio.

Things were always clearer after he painted.

*** 

“Not what I instructed, but certainly better than before.”

“I am to please,” Geralt deadpanned. He, Yennefer and Ciri were the only ones in the gallery, waiting for the doors to open.

“Would it have killed you to wear some color?” Yennefer continued.

“Yes.”

“Whatever,” Yennefer said.

“I’d hate to drag attention away from the art,” Geralt said.

“I think he looks good,” Ciri said.

Geralt gave Ciri a kind smile and a one armed hug.

“Well, the all black is definitely nice and I approve of the leather,” Yennefer said. 

“Of course you do,” Geralt muttered, adjusting his shirt a bit. The high-waisted black leather pants and black shirt had sat at the back of his closet since Ciri had shown up on his doorstep and it had actually felt comforting to put them back on again. It felt like … armor. 

“The buttons are silver,” Ciri said. “And so is the necklace. There’s your color.”

“Silver’s not - nevermind,” Yennefer said. “You ready?”

“As I’ll ever be,” Geralt said.

“Relax,” Yennefer said. “Everyone coming is already a fan of your work. Just stand there, look pretty, and try not to scare anyone.”

“G’s not scary,” Ciri said.

Geralt gave Ciri another one armed hug as Yennefer just rolled her eyes and went to open the doors to let everyone in.

“If I didn’t say it before,” Geralt said, “thank you for coming tonight.”

“Thanks for letting me come,” Ciri said. “Your art’s pretty awesome.”

“Thanks,” Geralt replied. “Yennefer might ask me to mingle, so ... “

“I’ll be perfectly fine on my own,” Ciri said. “I won’t even drink the champagne.”

Geralt chuckled and nodded. “Okay,” he said.

Music started playing and people started filtering in and suddenly Geralt was back in an environment so familiar that he hadn’t realized he’d missed it. Not that he ever resented becoming Ciri’s guardian but … Geralt’s art was a part of him that could never really be ignored.

Geralt mingled a bit with Ciri at his side until, as expected, Yennefer called Geralt to talk to some buyers. Geralt made his way through the crowd, played the part of broody artist and was on his way back to find Ciri when he suddenly found himself face to face with Jaskier.

Jaskier. In a black utility kilt, a white shirt, with the top three buttons undone and his ear length hair pulled back in a small ponytail. An unfamiliar feeling settled in Geralt’s stomach at the sight of Jaskier standing there.

“Geralt,” Jaskier said. “Um, this is a good look. And the small ponytail, it works. Leather’s a good look for you.”

“Oh, um, thanks,” Geralt said, resisting the urge to touch his hair - Ciri had helped him with it. “You, um, came.”

“I did,” Jaskier said. “Already made a pass around the room. Your art’s beautiful.”

“Thank you,” Geralt said. 

“Interesting naming convention,” Jaskier said. “All numbers?”

“Each one corresponds to a date in my life,” Geralt said. “Two digit year, two digit month, two digit date. Maybe there was an important news story, maybe there was an important event in my personal life. But whatever it is, I paint it.”

“Abstract,” Jaskier said. “So … what’s this one? 190815?”

“It was mine and Ciri’s first row,” Geralt admitted. “It was two months into her being my ward and we’d been tiptoeing around each other and finally we just blew up.”

“It looks angry,” Jaskier said. “All the black and red.”

“It’s supposed to,” Geralt said. “We made up a few days later - that one’s floating around here somewhere.”

“Ciri’s okay with your showing these?” Jaskier asked. “Pretty personal.”

“Not many know the stories behind my naming conventions or the meaning behind the paintings,” Geralt said, a part of him trying to figure out why he’d told Jaskier such personal information.

“Then thanks for trusting me with the info, swear down I won’t spill the beans,” Jaskier said.

“G! I’ve been looking for you!”

Geralt turned to see Ciri headed his way.

“Sorry, got a bit distracted,” Geralt said. “Ciri, this is Jaskier.”

“Nice to meet you,” Ciri said. 

“Ciri, nice to put a face to the name,” Jaskier said. “So, how did you like the pictures?”

“Pictures?”

“Jaskier is, um,” Geralt started.

“Geralt’s fairy godmother, the one responsible for his magical transformation, except the clothes, which I totally approve of, by the way.”

“Oh,” Ciri said slowly. “And you came tonight because -”

“Geralt invited me,” Jaskier finished.

“Oh,” Ciri said again. “I see.”

“So, I’m going to take another walk around, have some free champagne and admire the art I in no way have enough money to purchase,” Jaskier said. “Seriously Geralt, your art is expensive.”

Geralt just gave a shrug. “I don’t set the prices,” he said.

“Still, can’t afford it,” Jaskier said. “Oh! Turnabout’s fair play and all that - I have a show coming up next Friday night. Wanna come?”

“Sure,” Geralt said. 

“Here, gimme your phone,” Jaskier said. 

“Huh?” Geralt said, then jumped when Ciri grabbed his phone out of his pocket and passed it to Jaskier.

“I’m putting my number in your phone,” Jaskier said, tapping as he talked. “And texting myself from your phone so now we have each other’s digits. This way I can text you the show info.”

“Oh, okay,” Geralt said with a small frown. 

“Anyway, here’s your phone back and I’m going to go meander so you can talk to people who can actually afford your art,” Jaskier said, passing Geralt’s phone back.

Geralt reached for his phone, fingers brushing against Jaskier’s as he took his phone back. The unfamiliar feeling in Geralt’s stomach got worse as he pocketed his phone.

“Thanks for coming,” Ciri said. “Hey, can I come to your show?”

“It’s a twenty one and over venue, sorry,” Jaskier said. “If I do something without an age limit, I’ll text Geralt.”

“Cool,” Ciri said.

As Jaskier headed into the throng of people milling about the gallery, Geralt watched him go, watching the way the utility kilt swung as Jaskier walked.

“You invited him to your show,” Ciri said.

“Uh-huh,” Geralt mumbled.

“Why?”

“I have absolutely no idea,” Geralt admitted. “We were talking after he finished my shave and haircut and … I invited him.”

“Okay,” Ciri said. “He’s cool.”

“He’s … something.”

“Uh-huh,” Ciri said.

“Why are you grinning?” Geralt asked.

“You really don’t know?” Ciri asked.

“I wouldn’t be asking if I did,” Geralt said.

“Oh shit, this is awesome,” Ciri said. “No, I’m not going to tell you why I’m grinning. This is too awesome and I’m gonna sit back and watch this play out.”

***

Geralt checked the address in the text Jaskier had sent him to make sure he was at the right place. Tucking his phone into the back pocket of his jeans, Geralt approached the bouncer who neither checked his license nor requested the cover charge before letting Geralt into the club.

Once his eyes adjusted, Geralt saw Jaskier on the stage, presumably preparing for his set. It wasn’t just Jaskier on the stage - there was a woman and a couple of other men with him.

He approached the stage and waited just off to the side for Jaskier to see him. Jaskier’s female companion noticed him first.

“Hello, who are you?”

“I’m Geralt.”

“Geralt!” Jaskier looked up from his guitar. “You came!”

“You invited me,” Geralt said, wincing a bit when Jaskier’s guitar made an odd sound.

“Oh, this is Geralt,” the woman said. “I’m Madeleine, Jaskier’s bandmate. Purely platonic. Love the outfit, Geralt.”

“Madeleine,” Jaskier said.

“Um, thanks,” Geralt said, glancing down at his clothes and shrugging. Ciri had made a big point of checking his clothes before he left - black work boots, black jeans, a black v-neck and a black leather jacket, hair loose but brushed back. It got Ciri’s approval and apparently that was what mattered.

“I can see why you talk about him so much, Jaskier,” Madeleine said.

“Sweet merciful -”

“So much?” Geralt said. “We only met a week ago.”

“That Madeleine, she’s such a kidder,” Jaskier said. “Always joking, she is. I just, um, your show was very moving. So I talked a lot about your ars - art! I talked a lot about your art.”

“Right,” Madeleine drawled. “He’s waxed poetic about your art. Frequently.”

“Oh,” Geralt said with a small frown. “I’m glad my art made an impression.”

“Oh, it did that,” Madeleine said.

“Mads!” Jaskier said. “Just … gimme a sec, yeah?”

Geralt watched Madeleine step back to talk to the rest of the band, then turned his attention to Jaskier, feeling that unfamiliar feeling settle in his stomach again. Jaskier again wore a utility kilt, paired with a white tank top and a black vest. Jaskier’s hair was again pulled back in a small ponytail but Geralt found himself drawn to Jaskier’s eyes, realizing they were lined and slightly smudged which made him seem … mysterious.

“You came,” Jaskier said.

“You said that already,” Geralt said.

“Right, right,” Jaskier said. “Find the place okay?”

“Yeah,” Geralt said.

“Any trouble getting in?”

“Didn’t even check my ID or ask for a cover charge,” Geralt said.

“You do cut an imposing figure,” Jaskier said. “Been using the shampoo and conditioner?”

“My opinion of Miss Clairol has improved greatly,” Geralt said, giving Jaskier a small smile. 

“Th-that’s g-great,” Jaskier said. “Um, are you going to hang around after our set? We’re playing until ten and I wasn’t sure about Ciri and if you needed to get home -”

“I planned on staying a bit, yes,” Geralt said. 

“G-good, that’s good,” Jaskier said. “Maybe we could grab a drink when my set’s done?”

“Sure,” Geralt said. “And it’s almost eight so I should get out of your way. I’ll be, um, at the bar. When your set’s over.”

“Okay,” Jaskier said. “Enjoy the show.”

“Thanks,” Geralt said, giving Jaskier a short nod before making his way through the crowd back to the bar.

He found a seat on the far side of the bar in a dark(er) corner and ordered himself a whiskey. When the band started up and the music filled the club, Geralt paused with his drink halfway to his lips. The music filling the bar was the same music that had filled the barbershop the week before. Geralt took a sip of whiskey and closed his eyes, enjoying the music. It was different, hearing it live, than hearing it come from a CD or phone. It had more life, more energy, and Geralt found himself enjoying it that much more.

“Why am I not surprised to find you sitting in the darkest corner of the bar?”

Geralt opened his eyes and blinked at Jaskier standing in front of him.

“Habit,” Geralt said. “Show over?”

“For about ten minutes now - had to pack up,” Jaskier said with a smile. “So, what are you drinking?”

“Whiskey,” Geralt said. “You guys are good.”

“Thanks,” Jaskier said as he waved over the bartender. “Barkeep! Beer please! Any colder than room temperature and ‘ave your knob!”

Geralt cracked a small smile at Jaskier.

“I’ll never understand how you Yanks can drink cold beer,” Jaskier said.

“Acquired taste,” Geralt replied. 

When the bartender arrived with Jaskier’s beer, Geralt motioned for another whiskey.

“Apparently,” Jaskier replied. “So, how have you been?”

“Not bad,” Geralt said. “Painting, helping Ciri with homework.”

“I do not miss school,” Jaskier said. “What grade’s she in?”

“Finishing her junior year in high school,” Geralt said. “Just another week and it’ll be her summer vacation.”

“And then she’ll be around all day, everyday,” Jaskier said.

“She’s got plenty of friends, and I also don’t mind her being around,” Geralt admitted, nodding when the bartender brought him his whiskey. He stared at it for a moment before taking a drink. “She’s not scared of me.”

Why had he just said that?

“Who’d be scared of you?” Jaskier asked.

Geralt gave Jaskier a raised eyebrow.

“Really?” Geralt said. “Genetics dealt me a kind of shitty hand, Jaskier. Imagine hitting puberty and your hair turns almost white overnight. Literally. And my mother, instead of maybe helping a thirteen year old boy out and dyeing it, shoved me out into the world. She said that it would help me learn who my true friends were.”

“Your father?” Jaskier asked softly.

Geralt snorted and downed the whiskey in a few swallows.

“What father?” Geralt muttered.

“Shit, I’m sorry, Geralt,” Jaskier said. 

“I quickly figured out that my true friends were few and far between,” Geralt muttered. “And yes, I own it now and actually cringe at the thought of dyeing my hair or wearing contacts, but it wasn’t always that way.”

Geralt almost flinched when he felt Jaskier’s hand on his.

“I am truly sorry, Geralt,” Jaskier said. “Puberty’s a bitch in the first place but that couldn’t have been fun.”

Geralt shrugged, staring down at the bar where Jaskier’s hand still rested on top of his, that unfamiliar feeling growing again in his stomach.

“I moved past it,” Geralt said. “Used it in my art.”

“Art is great therapy,” Jaskier said. “I bet some of your earlier paintings were quite dark and violent.”

“Indeed,” Geralt said. “I could fill three or four canvases with one days’ emotions.”

“Did it help?”

Geralt glanced up at Jaskier and smiled a bit.

“I’m far less angry now than I used to be,” Geralt said.

“Well, just so you can be absolutely certain,” Jaskier said. “I am not afraid of you, either.”

“I gathered,” Geralt said. “How’s your beer?” He desperately needed to change the subject before he spilled any other secrets. 

What was it about Jaskier that made Geralt tell him things he’d never told anyone else?

“A little cold, but I suspect it’s due to the air conditioning,” Jaskier said. “So, the barkeep may keep his knob.”

Geralt laughed and shook his head.

“You should do that more often,” Jaskier said.

“What?”

“Smile, laugh,” Jaskier said. “It’s a good look on you.”

“Oh,” Geralt said. “Um, thanks. I’ll keep it in mind.”

“You do that,” Jaskier said. “And shit it’s after eleven.”

“What?” Geralt pulled his phone out of his back pocket and, yep it was after eleven.

“I gotta go,” Jaskier said. “I have an early client tomorrow and have to be there at seven thirty. But, um, it was good to see you.”

“You as well,” Geralt said.

“Listen,” Jaskier said, quickly downing his beer and tossing a bill on the bar. “Text me this week and we can meet for coffee or something, yeah?”

“Um, sure,” Geralt said. “Coffee.”

“Awesome,” Jaskier said. “Get home safe, Geralt!”

Geralt watched Jaskier make his way back through the crowd towards the stage, again watching the way the utility kilt swayed as Jaskier walked.

Geralt needed to get home - he needed to paint.

***

The next three months passed in a kind of new, weird monotony for Geralt. He and Ciri would wake up, go for a run and have breakfast, then Geralt would paint for a while and then help Ciri with whatever extra credit she was working on before her senior year, before then getting dinner on the table. And in between everything, Geralt found himself hanging out with Jaskier.

A lot.

Meeting for coffee, grabbing lunch, going to Jaskier’s shows, and at least one wash and trim. Geralt stopped by Pruning Shears so often that Bess stopped looking terrified when he walked through the door.

“Geralt!”

“Bess,” Geralt said as he stepped into Pruning Shears. “How are you doing today?”

“Good, good,” Bess replied. “Thanks again for your help with the wallpaper swatches.”

“What did you decide?”

“The summer blossom textured wallpaper,” Bess replied.

“Excellent choice,” Geralt replied with a smile. “Jaskier here?”

“Finishing a client,” Bess said. “Where are you two off to?”

“Just dinner,” Geralt said.

“Bess! Bess, luv, I’m running late and - shit, Geralt you’re already here!”

Geralt shook his head and smiled as Jaskier almost careened into the reception area from the back of the barbershop.

“I am already here,” Geralt said. “But I’m in no hurry.”

“Well, I’m here and done,” Jaskier said. “Bess, the client is cleaning up in the bathroom. Could you please -”

“Wait for them and then close up? Of course,” Bess replied.

“You’re an angel,” Jaskier said, then turned to Geralt. “Let’s go.”

“You know, we don’t have reservations or anything,” Geralt said as they left Pruning Shears and walked down the street towards the restaurant.

“I know, but I detest being late,” Jaskier said. “So, how was your day?”

“Fine,” Geralt said. “Yenn stopped by to look at my latest batch of paintings.”

“How did that go?” Jaskier asked.

“Okay,” Geralt said slowly. “She said something was different about my paintings, though.”

“Oh? You’re not losing your touch, are you?” Jaskier teased.

“Ass, no,” Geralt said. “She just said there was something different - couldn’t put her finger on it.”

“Well maybe I can see them and tell you if I see something she doesn’t,” Jaskier offered.

“Sure,” Geralt said. “Anytime.”

Dinner passed companionably; Geralt and Jaskier sharing a bottle of wine and having spirited conversation. They discussed everything from recent movies to literature to music. Geralt was sad when the bill was paid and the two men were back outside on the sidewalk.

“This was nice,” Geralt said. “Thanks for inviting me out.”

“You’re welcome,” Jaskier said slowly.

“So … I’ll talk to you soon,” Geralt said and started to leave.

“Fucking Christ! There’s slow and then there’s glaciers!”

Before Geralt could comment, he suddenly found Jaskier’s lips pressed to his. His brain short circuited a bit and before his brain came back online and told him to kiss Jaskier back, Jaskier had pulled away.

“Guess I read the room wrong,” Jaskier said as he stepped back. “No hard feelings, huh? Still be friends and all that?”

“Fuck.”

Geralt grabbed Jaskier’s wrist and pulled him back in, claiming Jaskier’s lips in a kiss that was so far from chaste it bordered on criminal. When Jaskier finally started returning the kiss, quite enthusiastically, Geralt shoved Jaskier against the nearest wall and fumbled a bit with Jaskier’s shirt, slipping his hands under it to feel Jaskier’s skin under his fingers. 

The quick blast of a siren from a passing police car jolted Geralt and he immediately pulled back.

“Wha …?” Jaskier mumbled.

“You didn’t read the room wrong,” Geralt muttered. “I’m apparently oblivious.”

“I thought I was being so fucking obvious,” Jaskier said. “I have wanted to kiss you since that first night.”

Geralt groaned. “I’m an idiot,” he said. “Could have been kissing you for months.”

“Not an idiot, per se,” Jaskier said. “Careful? Bit of the barbed wire around the heart? I actually do understand - wait, months? You’ve wanted to kiss me for months?”

“Well, it took you kissing me to realize that I think I’ve wanted to kiss you since my art show,” Geralt admitted. “You would have still had to have made the first move.”

“So I made the first move, you made the second,” Jaskier said. “What now?”

“Come back to my place,” Geralt said.

“Ciri?”

“At a friend’s house for the night, won’t be back till tomorrow,” Geralt said.

“How fortuitous,” Jaskier said. “Your home it is.”

Geralt reached for Jaskier’s hand, almost shyly, and led the way back up the street in the direction of his house.

“You just had your tongue down my throat in full view of the populace of San Francisco and yet you’re blushing at holding my hand,” Jaskier said. “You’re fucking adorable.”

Geralt just shrugged and gave Jaskier’s hand a little squeeze as they walked. 

The walk was quiet, neither of them feeling the need to fill the silence with conversation; the sexual tension between the two of them had grown such that Geralt feared if he even looked at Jaskier, he’d shove him against the nearest flat surface.

When they reached Geralt’s house, Geralt fumbled a bit with his keys, groaning a bit as he felt Jaskier press against his back. Door finally unlocked and open, Geralt tossed the keys on the entry table before tugging Jaskier in and slamming the door closed behind them. Geralt pushed Jaskier against the front door and kissed him, slipping his hands under Jaskier’s shirt.

“What - what about - your - art?” Jaskier asked between kisses.

“Later,” Geralt muttered. “You can see it later.”

“Okay, carry on,” Jaskier said.

Geralt chuckled and pressed a few kisses to Jaskier’s jaw, nipping happily before pulling back.

“I’m certain I said carry on,” Jaskier said.

“Couch or bed?” Geralt said. 

“Bed,” Jaskier replied. “Totally bed.”

Geralt smiled and grabbed Jaskier’s hand, tugging him up the stairs and down the hall to his bedroom where he turned on the light and then shrugged out of his coat and took off his boots. He turned to see Jaskier standing in the doorway looking around.

“What?” Geralt asked.

“Not what I was expecting,” Jaskier said.

Geralt looked around his bedroom - solid oak furniture, pale green walls and forest green and white bedding.

“What were you expecting? Iron bed frame with chains and black silk sheets?”

“Actually, yes,” Jaskier said.

“Saved that for the basement,” Geralt replied with a wink.

“Heh - wait, what?” Jaskier said.

Geralt threw his head back and laughed.

“I’m joking,” Geralt said, crossing the room and wrapping his arms around Jaskier.

“Oh,” Jaskier said. “I mean, it would be fine if you did have a kink basement, I’d be totally game, trying new things and all that, I just -”

Geralt rolled his eyes and kissed Jaskier to stop him from rambling. He pulled back a few moments later and smiled, swatting Jaskier on the ass.

“Stop talking, and get undressed,” Geralt said.

“Y-yeah,” Jaskier replied.

Geralt chuckled as he stepped back over by the bed and stripped, tossing his clothes in the hamper. He fought against shyness as he tossed the last item of clothing into the hamper and turned down the bed. Working out and bulking up had been his saving grace when he was a teenager - no one wanted to tease a guy with grey hair that could beat you to within an inch of your life. And Geralt had eventually found he liked the way he looked.

It was always a crapshoot with others though.

When Geralt turned back to Jaskier, he paused. Jaskier stood hesitantly near the door, his clothes in a pile next to him and the way he was looking at Geralt … 

“Fuck me, I’m a lucky bloke,” Jaskier whispered.

Geralt didn’t trust himself to actually say anything, so instead he climbed onto the bed and motioned for Jaskier to join him, waiting patiently for Jaskier to cross the room and climb into bed.

“Hi,” Geralt mumbled.

“Hi,” Jaskier said. 

Geralt hummed when he felt one of Jaskier’s hands in his hair, stroking it gently. He leaned into the touch and felt his body relax.

“I take it this is a big step, huh?” Jaskier murmured.

Geralt hummed again and nodded.

“Been a while?” Jaskier continued.

Geralt nodded again.

“I want,” Geralt said. “I want a lot, but I feel like …”

“Why don’t we take tonight, and just feel things out,” Jaskier said. “Literally.”

Geralt gave Jaskier a small smile.

“Feel things out, huh?”

“Yeah,” Jaskier said. “Touch, kiss, maybe a bit of a stroke. That’s it. I’m in no rush here, Geralt.”

“Says the man who called me a glacier,” Geralt said.

“In making the first move,” Jaskier said. “First move made, second move made. Now that I know I’ve got you, I’ve got all the time in the world.”

“Feel things out,” Geralt said, reaching out and running his fingers through Jaskier’s chest hair. “Think I like that.”

“And I definitely like that,” Jaskier said.

What happened next was hours of exploration; fingers, lips and tongues traced patterns on skin, fingers stroked and tugged at hair, the room filled with soft gasps and barely contained groans as nipples were tweaked and cocks were stroked. 

“Fuck,” Geralt groaned as he rolled onto his back on the bed, utterly boneless from Jaskier’s attentions.

“Indeed,” Jaskier replied. “Ugh, think I’m in the wet spot.”

“Think we’re both in the wet spot,” Geralt replied with a chuckle.

“Well that won’t do at all,” Jaskier said. 

Geralt chuckled again before he rolled out of bed and gave a languid stretch.

“Christ, Geralt,” Jaskier said. “You’re completely unfair.”

Geralt just smiled over his shoulder at Jaskier before heading into the bathroom, coming back moments later with a bath towel.

“This’ll do for tonight,” Geralt said, laying the towel down on the bed before crawling back onto the bed and tugging Jaskier close.

“Yeah,” Jaskier said. “Figured I’d get a quick nap and then head out.”

“Stay,” Geralt said. “Stay tonight.”

“Sure?”

“Now that I know I’ve got you,” Geralt replied with a smile.

“Using my own words against me,” Jaskier said.

“Mmmhmm,” Geralt said, smiling when Jaskier tucked his head under Geralt’s chin.

“I’ll allow it,” Jaskier said.

“Good,” Geralt said as he closed his eyes. “Good.”

***

The next morning, Geralt hummed happily to himself as he fixed breakfast for himself and Jaskier, who was still fast asleep in Geralt’s bed. Geralt’s internal alarm had woken him before the sun and he’d spent a few minutes watching Jaskier sleep before he climbed out of bed, got dressed and went on a run. 

“‘s too early.”

Geralt looked up from where he had just finished plating breakfast and smiled at how adorable Jaskier looked wearing Geralt’s clothes.

“And you weren’t in bed when I woke up,” Jaskier continued.

Geralt’s smile widened as he watched Jaskier scratch as his stomach sleepily.

“Sorry, I went for a run,” Geralt said. “My internal alarm clock doesn’t stop.”

“You run on a Saturday morning? Blasphemy,” Jaskier said. “Should have stayed in bed with me.”

“I’ll remember that for next time,” Geralt said. “There’s coffee and I’m about finished with breakfast.”

“Coffee. Blessed nectar of the gods.”

“Not tea?” Geralt teased.

“Fuck no,” Jaskier said. “Coffee.”

Geralt shook his head and finished plating breakfast, humming when Jaskier pressed himself to Geralt’s back. When Geralt felt Jaskier’s lips on the back of his neck, he groaned.

“Breakfast,” Geralt said.

“Your nape,” Jaskier murmured. “How have I never seen you with your hair up like this? Most don’t necessarily suit a manbun, but you do.”

“Do it when I run,” Geralt said. “It’s easier.”

“Mmmhmm,” Jaskier said. “Feel free to do it more often.”

“Duly noted,” Geralt said. “Hungry?”

“Famished,” Jaskier said.

“I made egg frittatas and cut up some fruit,” Geralt said.

“Bloody ‘ell, you can cook too?” Jaskier said. “Fucking perfect boyfriend, that’s what you are.”

Geralt ducked his head shyly as he poured himself a glass of orange juice and grabbed some utensils.

“I can cook,” Geralt said. “I’ll make you dinner sometime.”

“Looking forward to it,” Jaskier replied.

They sat at the kitchen island and ate breakfast, Geralt blushing when Jaskier started to play footsie with him under the counter.

“I love that you blush so easily,” Jaskier said. “Going to take advantage of that.”

“Hey G! I’m home!”

Geralt’s eyes widened when he heard Ciri’s voice in the entry.

“Fuck.” Geralt glanced over at Jaskier. “Um …”

“Better to face it head on,” Jaskier said with a shrug. “I’m not ashamed.”

“Neither am I,” Geralt said. “Just woefully unprepared.”

“G! I can smell the frittatas … Jaskier.”

“Morning Ciri,” Jaskier said before taking a drink of coffee.

“Morning Ciri,” Geralt said, trying to sound nonchalant. 

“Make enough frittata for me?” Ciri asked.

“I did,” Geralt said. “Good night?”

“Mine was fine,” Ciri said. “Looks like yours was way more eventful. Let me guess, Jaskier made the first move?”

“Is this what had you grinning that night at my art show?” Geralt asked.

“Yep,” Ciri said as she fixed herself a plate of food. “So oblivious.”

“We figured it out,” Jaskier said.

“That’s good,” Ciri said. “Seen G’s art yet? You really should.”

“After breakfast,” Geralt said. “Got a little distracted last night.”

“Nice,” Ciri said. “I’m gonna eat breakfast on the back patio. Jaskier, staying the day?”

“I got a client coming this afternoon so I need to get going in a bit,” Jaskier replied. “Don’t worry, you’ll see me again soon.”

“Good,” Ciri said.

Geralt smiled as Ciri headed to the back patio, stopping to give Geralt a one armed hug and a kiss on the cheek.

“She knew?” Jaskier said.

“Apparently,” Geralt replied with a shrug.

“So she wanted to watch us fumble,” Jaskier said. “I knew I liked her.”

Geralt laughed and shook his head.

“You finished?” Geralt asked.

“Yeah, caffeinated and full of good food,” Jaskier replied.

“Did you want to see my workspace?” Geralt asked.

“I’d love to,” Jaskier said. “Want me to wait while you clean up?”

“No, I can clean this up later,” Geralt said, standing and offering a hand to Jaskier, smiling when Jaskier stood and slipped his hand into Geralt’s.

“I’ve wanted to see more of your art,” Jaskier said. “I really liked what I saw at your show.”

“Thank you,” Geralt said. “I’ve been doing a lot more recently.”

“Oh?” 

“Yeah,” Geralt said, giving Jaskier’s hand a squeeze as he led the way back to his studio. He turned the lights on and hovered just inside the studio, letting Jaskier see all the paintings he’d done since his last show.

“Geralt,” Jaskier whispered. “They’re all so beautiful.”

“You think so?” Geralt asked.

“The colors! And the soft lines and swirls … so different from what was at your last show, yet full of so much more emotion,” Jaskier said.

“I was actually planning on giving you one of them,” Geralt murmured, crossing the room to pull a small canvas from the far side of the studio. He held it close as he crossed the room back to Jaskier’s side.

“You were?” Jaskier asked.

“Mmmhmm,” Geralt hummed as he turned the canvas over to show Jaskier. “It’s, um, I painted it the night we met.”

“Geralt,” Jaskier whispered. “It’s beautiful.”

Geralt looked down at the canvas, the swirls of purples, blues and greens with shots of gold, sweeping lines free from the harshness that accompanied Geralt’s previous paintings. 

“I … I couldn’t figure you out,” Geralt said. “I felt so off kilter when I got home that I had to paint. This is what I painted.”

“This is what you felt when you met me?” Jaskier whispered.

Geralt blushed a bit and nodded, then jolted when Jaskier suddenly wrapped him in a hug and kissed him, the canvas pressed between the two of them.

“Everything in here’s what I’ve been painting since then,” Geralt said softly.

“Can I … can I look?” Jaskier said. 

“Of course,” Geralt murmured. “It’s why I brought you in here. Go. Look.”

Geralt hovered near the door and watched as Jaskier moved around his studio, looking at his art. He didn’t see his art the same way everyone else did - it was part of the reason why he tended to get a bit nervous showing off his art, even though by now he knew that a large population of people around the world loved his art.

“This is, fuck Geralt, these are all so beautiful,” Jaskier said. “Are … are they all about me?”

Geralt snorted.

“Cocky,” Geralt said. “No. They’re not all about you. But they’ve all been since you came into my life.”

“They’re … fuck, I wish I had more time to really appreciate these, but I have a client and I have to go,” Jaskier said.

Geralt smiled when Jaskier came back across the room to give him a sweet kiss.

“You’re welcome to come back anytime,” Geralt said softly.

“Anytime?” Jaskier asked.

“Anytime,” Geralt said with a nod. “Now that I know I’ve got you …”

“Can’t get rid of me,” Jaskier said.

Geralt smiled when Jaskier gave him another kiss.

“I’m going to run and grab my clothes from last night,” Jaskier said. “Can I, um, can I return these to you later?”

“Of course,” Geralt said. “I can get these from you next time we get together.”

“Okay,” Jaskier said. 

“You look cute in my clothes,” Geralt said.

“That’s not helping the ‘I have to leave’ thing, Geralt,” Jaskier said.

“Apologies,” Geralt said, nudging Jaskier out of the studio and into the kitchen. “Go, get your clothes. I’ll text you later, okay?”

“Okay,” Jaskier said. “Okay. I’m going now. Upstairs to get my clothes and then off to the shop.”

Geralt nodded and waited until Jaskier had left before heading out to the back patio where Ciri was still sitting.

“I’m happy for you,” Ciri said.

“Thank you,” Geralt said as he sat next to her. “You knew?”

“The second Jaskier showed up at your art show,” Ciri said. “But you didn’t. And I knew you wouldn’t believe me if I told you.”

“I wouldn’t have,” Geralt admitted. “I’d only just met the man.”

“And he made an impression,” Ciri said. “You … you’ve seemed happier since he came into your life.”

Geralt was quiet for a few minutes.

“I think I am,” Geralt said. “Not that I ever regret having you in my life, or that my life was in any way horrible before -”

“I get it, G,” Ciri said with a laugh. “Happiness looks good on you.”

“Thanks.”

“You’re keeping him, right?” Ciri asked.

“I have no intention of letting him go.”

***

//Nine Months Later//

“Jaskier? Bess? Someone?” Geralt stepped into Pruning Shears when he found the lights dimmed, yet heard music from Jaskier’s band playing in the background.

“Sent Bess home.”

Geralt smiled when he saw Jaskier in the doorway between the back of the barbershop and reception.

“Oh,” Geralt said softly, then smiled when Jaskier crossed the room and gave him a sweet kiss.

“How was your day?” Jaskier asked.

“Fine,” Geralt said. “Getting ready for Ciri’s graduation next week.”

“That’s right,” Jaskier said. “I changed some appointments around so I can most definitely go.”

“Great,” Geralt said, leaning in and giving Jaskier another kiss. “And she again professes her thanks for not volunteering to be chaperones at her senior prom.” They’d both offered, but Ciri had begged them not to because she said they’d … distract everyone? Either way, Geralt and Jaskier had happily spent the night in.

“But I bet her dress was a huge hit,” Jaskier said.

“Definitely,” Geralt replied. Ciri had requested Geralt doing a painting for her, which she then had turned into fabric and commissioned a dress from it - she had been the star of her senior prom.

“Good, good,” Jaskier said. “So … happy anniversary.”

“Anniver …” Geralt trailed off, thought for a moment and then smiled. “We met a year ago today.”

“Yep!” Jaskier said. “You showed up here and let me work my magic.”

“And my life hasn’t been the same,” Geralt said. “But I don’t mind one bit.”

The past nine months with Jaskier had been amazing - there were ups and downs like any relationship, but for every down, the up that came after resulted in a much stronger relationship. 

“Well good, because you’re stuck with me,” Jaskier said.

“So, were we going to dinner?” Geralt said.

“Actually, I had other plans, if you’re game,” Jaskier replied. “I got some takeaway and I figured we could eat here in reception and then we’d go back to my station and maybe you let me work a little magic again?”

“I do love your fingers,” Geralt murmured.

“And you trust me,” Jaskier said.

“I do,” Geralt replied. He loved when Jaskier would brush or stroke his hair, it never failed to turn him into a puddle of goo.

“So …”

“Take out and magic,” Geralt said, laughing when Jaskier gave a loud shout and did a little dance.

“Perfect!” Jaskier said. “I got us some Chinese food.”

“Sounds good,” Geralt said. 

“Okay, go sit and I’ll bring the food out,” Jaskier said.

Geralt shook his head and laughed as he moved to sit in the reception area. Jaskier came out a few moments later with food and a couple bottles of water and sat down next to Geralt, tucking himself against Geralt’s side

“Smells good,” Geralt said.

“Got your favorites,” Jaskier said. “Which also happen to be my favorites. So win win.”

Geralt laughed and pressed a quick kiss to Jaskier’s cheek before digging into dinner. Jaskier hummed and sang along to the music in between bites and Geralt ate in content silence, every once and a while pressing a kiss to Jaskier’s cheek. Being with Jaskier had opened him up a bit and Geralt was less scared about expressing himself.

“Won’t even be leftovers,” Geralt said as he finished up and set a couple of empty containers on the low table in front of where they sat.

“I know how much you eat, and how much I eat,” Jaskier said. “So I planned accordingly.”

“Good planning,” Geralt said.

“Yep!” Jaskier said. “Now, help me clean up and then we’ll move to the back for the magic.”

Geralt just shook his head as he stood and gathered most of the trash, following Jaskier to the back and going past him to throw the trash in the big trash can out back. When he went back inside, Geralt found Jaskier by his station … shirtless.

“That’s fucking distracting,” Geralt said. “You expect me to keep my hands to myself and let you work and yet you’re standing there … like that!”

Geralt closed the space between them and pulled Jaskier in for a kiss, running his fingers through Jaskier’s chest hair.

“Distracting,” Geralt said. “Utterly distracting.”

“Well, even the playing field,” Jaskier said.

Geralt laughed and stepped back, tugging his shirt off and tossing it aside.

“So much better,” Jaskier said. “Go take a seat?” 

Geralt hummed and nodded, moving to go sit at Jaskier’s station. He watched in the mirror as Jaskier stepped behind him and pressed a kiss to the top of Geralt’s head before gently combing through his hair. Geralt hummed and let his head drop back as Jaskier took his time combing and stroking Geralt’s hair.

“Magic fingers,” Geralt mumbled.

“Still trust me?” Jaskier murmured. 

“Always,” Geralt said.

“Aww, you’re so sweet and pliant when you’re a puddle of goo,” Jaskier said. “I have an idea, something I have been absolutely dying to try on you.”

“As long as there’s no -”

“Color,” Jaskier finished. “I’d never color.”

“Then go for it,” Geralt said. “I trust you.”

“Fucking love you,” Jaskier said.

Geralt paused for a second at Jaskier’s words. They’d actually said the words to each other many times, but it never failed to make Geralt’s heart stop a bit when Jaskier said those words.

“Love you, too,” Geralt murmured.

“Okay, sit up and I’ll do my thing,” Jaskier said. “Then I’ll give you a wash -”

“Love a wash from you,” Geralt replied with a grin.

“I know you do, you big hedonist,” Jaskier said. “I’ll do a little trim and style and then I have one more surprise.”

“A surprise, huh?” Geralt said as he let Jaskier wrap a cape around him. “No hints?”

“Nope,” Jaskier said. “I guarantee you’ll love it, though.”

Geralt hummed and watched in the mirror as Jaskier combed through his hair, using his fingers and a comb to create a part level with the top of his ears, securing the top with a couple of clips.

“Still trust me?” Jaskier asked.

“Of course,” Geralt said, smiling when Jaskier pressed another kiss to the top of his head. 

“Okay, just … keep trusting me,” Jaskier said.

Geralt smiled, then watched in the mirror as Jaskier reached for the scissors and began to cut. Long locks of hair began to fall to the floor and Geralt realized how short Jaskier was cutting his hair. But Jaskier had waxed poetic on Geralt’s hair enough for Geralt to know that Jaskier would never cut ALL his hair off. But still … when Jaskier reached for the clippers, Geralt just barely resisted the urge to climb out of the chair.

“Jaskier,” Geralt said slowly.

“Geralt,” Jaskier murmured. “You said you trust me.”

“I do,” Geralt said. “I do.”

“Okay,” Jaskier said. “Just remember that I probably love your hair more than you do and that I would rather eat glass then cut all your hair off.”

“Okay,” Geralt murmured. “Okay.”

“Would it make you feel better to know what I’m doing?” Jaskier said. “You normally let me do whatever, but I can feel the tension in your shoulders.”

Geralt nodded, then hummed when he felt Jaskier rub his shoulders.

“Yes,” Geralt murmured.

“I’m going to take all this down really short with the clippers,” Jaskier said. “But only this part, and leave everything else long. It’s an undercut and I think you’ll look fantastic.”

Geralt hummed a bit when he felt Jaskier’s fingers gently rub the nape of his neck. 

“Okay,” Geralt said. 

“Okay,” Jaskier said. “Still have another surprise coming. This one I know you’ll like.”

“Okay,” Geralt said again.

Geralt tried to relax and closed his eyes as Jaskier turned the clippers on. The first pass of the clippers made Geralt gasp softly and he gripped the arms of the chair as Jaskier made pass after pass. But Jaskier was true to his word and when the clippers finally turned off, Geralt released a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding.

“Let me wash your hair?” Jaskier asked softly.

Geralt nodded and started to get up.

“Wait,” Jaskier said. “Wait. Let me … let me try something?”

Geralt nodded and a few seconds later felt Jaskier’s fingers on his nape. It felt … different. Jaskier’s fingers ran up and down, up and down, the back of Geralt’s head and Geralt couldn’t hold back the shiver, feeling goosebumps erupt on his arms. And when he felt Jaskier’s lips on the back of his head, Geralt groaned softly.

“Oh,” Geralt murmured.

“Mmmm,” Jaskier hummed. “Okay, come let me wash and then I’ll trim and then your surprise.”

“You know,” Geralt said as he stood and followed Jaskier to the wash sink. “You did all this for our anniversary and I feel bad that I didn’t do anything. Didn’t even remember until you said something.”

“‘s okay,” Jaskier said “You trusting me to do this with your hair is gift enough.”

Geralt just shook his head fondly as he sat down and laid back, head resting on the lip of the wash sink. Before Jaskier got too lost in washing his hair, Geralt reached up and ran his fingers through Jaskier’s chest hair again.

“Distracting,” Geralt murmured, fingers tweaking one of Jaskier’s nipples. “So very distracting.”

“Pot, kettle,” Jaskier said. “Now, hands to yourself so I can wash your hair.”

“Fine, fine,” Geralt said, slipping his hand back under his cape and closing his eyes.

Geralt was always a sucker for Jaskier’s hair washes. Washing one’s own hair was fine, but there was something about someone else washing your hair and for Geralt, Jaskier’s ministrations were heaven. So Geralt settled in and waited and was soon rewarded with hot water and Jaskier’s fingers in his hair. The water felt different on the undercut and Geralt got goosebumps again, especially when Jaskier started working the shampoo through his hair, massaging Geralt’s scalp. Geralt gave himself over to Jaskier’s fingers and sighed softly, feeling the nerves and tension dissipate.

“Such a cute puddle of goo,” Jaskier said.

Geralt didn’t even open his eyes, but smiled when he felt Jaskier press a kiss to his forehead.

“Magic fingers,” Geralt mumbled.

“In more ways than one,” Jaskier said. “Come up, sit up. Almost done.”

“One more surprise?” Geralt said. 

“After I’m done with your hair,” Jaskier said.

Geralt nodded and let Jaskier wring the water from his hair and wrap it in a towel before Geralt stood and followed Jaskier back over to Jaskier’s station, where he sat back down. Geralt smiled when Jaskier turned the music up a bit and set to work, combing through Geralt’s hair before trimming it a bit. Geralt hummed when he heard Jaskier set the brush down, then smiled when Jaskier removed the cape and felt Jaskier’s fingers back in his hair.

“Done?” Geralt murmured.

“Mmmhmm,” Jaskier hummed. “Keep your eyes closed, okay?”

“Okay,” Geralt said slowly. He heard a bit of rustling and moving around and then frowned a bit when he felt Jaskier removing his shoes and socks, then gasped softly when he felt Jaskier unbutton Geralt’s pants and start to tug them down. Geralt obligingly lifted his hips and shivered as the air conditioning from the shop his hit bared skin. When Jaskier removed Geralt’s underwear, Geralt fought against shyness and feeling … exposed.

“Open your eyes.”

Geralt hesitated for a second after Jaskier spoke, but then slowly opened his eyes, groaning when he saw Jaskier standing naked next to the chair. 

“Fuck,” Geralt groaned.

“Wanna know what the surprise is?” Jaskier said.

“Hope it has something to do with why we’re both naked,” Geralt said.

“I’ve had this fantasy since that night you came to my show,” Jaskier said.

Geralt watched as Jaskier climbed onto the chair and straddled Geralt’s thighs. Geralt groaned, resting one hand on Jaskier’s thigh while the other carded through Jaskier’s chest hair, tweaking one of Jaskier’s nipples.

“That long?” Geralt asked softly.

“Yes,” Jaskier said. “And I’ve only wanted it more since we started dating.”

Geralt smiled and rubbed his thumb along Jaskier’s skin, his smile widening when Jaskier lowered the chair back. 

“Think it’lltake us?” Geralt asked.

“Well it’s already taking us,” Jaskier said.

Geralt laughed, then gave a little groan when Jaskier ground against him a bit. He moved his other hand from Jaskier’s chest and grabbed Jaskier’s other hip, watching as Jaskier continued to grind against Geralt for a bit.

“Fuck,” Geralt said.

“Getting there,” Jaskier moaned. “Definitely getting there.”

Geralt was entranced by the sight of Jaskier straddling his thighs and gasped when Jaskier reached down into the side of the chair and produced a little bottle of lube.

“Keep that there all the time?” Geralt asked, a bit breathlessly.

“Special occasions only,” Jaskier groaned. “Gimme your hand.”

Geralt obligingly gave Jaskier his hand, making a face when Jaskier squirted some lube into the palm of his hand.

“Make use of that huh?” Jaskier said with a grin. “Wanna watch you stroke yourself while I prep.”

“Prep,” Geralt said slowly, then groaned when Jaskier leaned back a bit and used some lube to slip a couple of fingers inside himself. “Fuck.”

“That is the plan,” Jaskier said with a low moan.

Geralt began to stroke himself as he watched Jaskier stretch himself. Geralt couldn’t take his eyes off Jaskier's face - eyes closed, hair falling in his face, skin flushed and a little sweaty, breath coming in short pants … 

Jaskier looked fucking stunning.

Finally, finally, when Geralt thought he couldn’t take it any longer, he felt Jaskier’s hand on his.

“Grab my hip, need the help,” Jaskier groaned.

“Y-yeah,” Geralt said. “Yeah.”

Geralt made sure he had a good grip on Jaskier’s hips, watching as Jaskier got himself up and then slowly, slowly levered down right onto Geralt’s cock.

“Fucking ‘ell,” Jaskier groaned.

Geralt tightened his grip on Jaskier’s hips, nearly coming at the sight of Jaskier sitting on his cock. And when Jaskier gave a little thrust, Geralt gave a little shout.

“Like that?” Jaskier asked.

“Fuck,” Geralt groaned, moving a hand to wrap around Jaskier’s cock.

“This - fuck - this won’t take long,” Jaskier moaned.

“No, not long at all,” Geralt replied breathlessly. 

They fumbled through finding a rhythm of Geralt’s strokes and Jaskier’s thrusts and after a few strokes and thrusts they both came. Geralt gave a little grunt when Jaskier collapsed on top of him, but hummed happily when Jaskier’s fingers began to stroke gently at his nape.

“Are you purring?” Jaskier mumbled.

“No,” Geralt said, reaching around and giving Jaskier’s bare ass a sharp swat.

“You are,” Jaskier said. “It’s adorable.”

“Magic fingers,” Geralt mumbled, humming again at the feel of Jaskier’s fingers at his nape.

“Wait’ll you see it when your hair’s all pulled up,” Jaskier said. “So dynamic. So fucking hot.”

“Show me later,” Geralt mumbled. “Don’t wanna move.”

“I’ll show you later,” Jaskier whispered.

“‘kay,” Geralt murmured, wrapping his arms around Jaskier and hugging him tight. “Just a short nap.”

“Just a short nap,” Jaskier agreed.

Geralt hummed and smiled when he felt Jaskier tuck his head under his chin, Jaskier’s fingers stroking his nape and relaxing him even further.

“Happy anniversary, Jaskier,” Geralt mumbled.

“Happy anniversary, Geralt.”

**Author's Note:**

> //waves// Hello, this is my first (and maybe only?) foray into this fandom, but the idea wouldn't leave me alone.
> 
> I both thank and blame trekkiepirate for this fic ... she was both enabler and beta, so ...


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